Mega Stores Are Mega Headache

The bigger the store, the harder it is for me to find what I need. Cavernous buildings, unrelenting fluorescent lights and miles of shelving have replaced mom-and-pop operations where a friendly face helped me find that quarter-inch stainless steel screw I needed to hold up the shower nozzle. 

Last week I reluctantly went to a mega-store in search of another one of those screws. Hoping to shortcut my visit, I first sought help at the customer service desk. The young woman talking on the phone set the receiver aside long enough to tell me she didn't have a clue. 

I then flagged down a young clerk halfway through his first day on the job, who walked me past aisles of paint, lumber, lighting fixtures, plumbing supplies and pet care items until he finally found a city-block worth of screws. There he handed me off to another clerk with a walkie-talkie, who also did not know where the quarter-inch stainless steel ones were. This young man was about to go on lunch break, so he paged his boss, who consulted his computer, which kept freezing up. It took 10 minutes to get a verdict on the whereabouts of my screws: 
"They're on back order. Might be here in three weeks. Check with us then."

My next mall stop was a huge national-chain office supply store. I dislike going there because the electronic scanners can never read the bar codes properly, and the checkout clerks don't know how to work the cash registers. Besides, I always get in the wrong checkout line. 

After 10 minutes of searching for assistance, I flagged down a man with a nametag just as he was about to enter the employees' break room. 

Could he help me find a replacement blade for the paper cutter I'd bought there just six weeks earlier? It was a popular cutter; dozens like it were still for sale in the bin.
Looking at his watch, the man -- who turned out to be the store's assistant manager -- said, "Just look over there," and waved his right hand vaguely.

"I've done that," I replied, blocking his exit. "There are seven different refills but all of them are for another brand. Maybe you've got my brand in the back, or in the warehouse? Could you please look?"
"Oh no," he said, shocked at my question. "All our stock is on display." Then his face brightened. Bingo!
"Do you have a computer?" he asked. "You could order your refill blades online, directly from the manufacturer. That would save a lot of trouble and be much quicker than if we special-ordered them for you."

In that sentence, I heard the crash of bricks-and-mortar retailing. Was this guy kidding? Would he really rather send his living, breathing customer with cash in her hand to somebody else's Web site to spend her money?
He looked so pleased with his solution that I knew he was sincere; I wondered how long it would take him to talk his way right out of a job. 

Pair inept, pass-the-buck management with untrained, minimum-wage employees who don't like their jobs, and soon frustrated consumers will turn elsewhere for goods and services.

I did; my cutter blade refill arrived in the mail from the manufacturer within a week. As for the stainless steel screw, I scrounged up a spare in the garage. With that kind of luck, and my computer, I may never have to go to a mega-store again. 

© 2001 The Women Syndicate

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